at Hull by
Well, well, drum no more about it, for mercy's sake; if you must
go, you must go, that's all.
Yes, just like you, Fitzfaddlepettishly reiterates the lady of
the middle-aged man of business; mention any thing that would be
gratifying to the children
Yes, the children; only mention taking the dear, tied-up souls to,
toto the Springs
Haven't they been to Saratoga? Didn't I spend a month
of my precious time and a thousand of my precious dollars there, four
years ago, to be physicked, cheated, robbed, worried, starved,
andlaughed at? Fitzfaddle responds.
Or, to the sea-side continued the lady.
Sea-side! good conscience! exclaims Fitzfaddle; my dear Sook
Don't call me Sook, Fitzfaddle; Sook! I'm not in
the kitchen, nor of the kitchen, you'll please remember,
Fitzfaddle! said the lady, with evident feeling.
O, echoed Fitz, God bless me, Mrs. Fitzfaddle, don't be so rabid;
don't be foolish, in your old days; my dear, we've spent the happiest
of our days in the kitchen; when we were first married, Susan,
when our whole stock in trade consisted of five ricketty chairs
Well, that's enough about it interposed the lady.
A plain old pine breakfast table continued Fitz.
I'd stop, just THERE scowlingly said Mrs. Fitz.
My father's old chest, and your mother's old corner cupboard
persevered the indefatigable monster.
I'd go through the whole inventory angrily cried Mrs.
Fitzclean down to
The few broken pots, pans, and dishes we had
Don't youdon't you feel ashamed of yourself? exclaims
Mrs. Fitz, about as full of anger as she could well contain; but Fitz
keeps the even tenor of his way.
Not at all, my dear; Heaven forbid that I should ever forget a jot
of the real happiness of any portion of my life. When you and I, dear
Sook (an awful scowl, and a sudden change of her position, on her
costly rocking chair. Fitz looked askance at Mrs. Fitz, and proceeded);
when you and I, Susan, lived in Dowdy's little eight by ten
'blue frame,' down in Pigginsborough; not a yard of carpet, or piece of
mahogany, or silver, or silk, or satin, or flummery of any sort, the
five old chairs
Good conscience! are you going to have that over again? cries Mrs.
Fitz, with the utmost chagrin.
The old white pine table
Mrs. Fitz starts in horror.
My father's old chest, and your mother's old corner cupboard!
Mrs. Fitz, in an agony, walks the floor!
The few broken or cracked pots, pans and dishes, we had
Nature quite gin eoutthe exhausted Mrs. Fitzfaddle throws
herself down upon the sumptuous conversazione, and absorbs her
grief in the ample folds of a lace-wrought handkerchief (bought at
Warren'scost the entire profits of ten quintals of Fitzfaddle &Co.'s
A No. 1 cod!), while the imperturbable Fitz drives on
Your mother's old cooking stove, Susanthe time and again, Susan,
I've sat in that little kitchen
Mrs. Fitzfaddle shudders all over. Each reminiscence, so dear to
Fitzfaddle, seems a dagger to her.
With little Nanny
Youyou brute! Youyou vulgaryouyou Fitzfaddle. Nanny! to
call your daughter N-Nanny!
Nanny! why, yes, Nanny says the matter-of-fact head of the firm
of Fitzfaddle &Co. I believe we did intend to call the girl Nancy; we
did call her Nanny, Mrs. Fitzfaddle; but, like all the rest, by
your innovations, things have kept changing no better fast. I believe
my soul that girl has had five changes in her name before you concluded
it was up to the highest point of modern respectability. From Nancy you
had it Nannette, from Nannette to Ninna, from Ninna to Naomi, and
finally it was rested at Anna Antoinette De Orville Fitzfaddle! Such a
mess of nonsense to handle my plain name.
Anna Antoinette De Orvillesaid Mrs. Fitz, suddenly rallying,
is a name, only made plain by your ugly and countryfied
prefix. De Orville is a name, said the lady.
I should like to know, said the old gentleman, upon what pretext,
Mrs. Fitzfaddle, you lay claim to such a Frenchy and flighty name or
title as De Orville?
Wasn't it my family name, you brute? cried Mrs. Fitz.
Ho! ho! ho! Sook, Sook, Sook, says Fitzfaddle.
Sook! almost screams Mrs. Fitz.
Yes, Sook, Sook Scovill, daughter of a good
old-fashioned, patriotic farmerTimothy Scovill, of Tanner's
Mills, in the county of Tuggsdown East. And when I married Sook (Mrs.
Fitz jumped up, a rustling of silk is hearda door slams, and the old
gentleman finishes his domestic narrative, solus!), she was as
fine a gal as the State ever produced. We were poor, and we knew it;
wasn't discouraged or put out, on the account of our poverty. We
started in the world square; happy as clams, nothing but what was
useful around us; it is a happy reflection to look back upon those old
chairs, pine table, my father's old chest, and Sook's mother's old
corner cupboardthe cracked pots and pansthe old stoveSook as
ruddy and bright as a full-blown rose, as she bent over the hot stove
in our parlor, dining room, and kitchenturning her slap-jacks,
frying, baking and boiling, and I often by her side, with our first
child, Nanny, on my
Well, I hope by this time you're over your vulgar Pigginsborough
recollections, Fitzfaddle! exclaims Mrs. Fitz, re-entering the parlor.
I was just concluding, my dear, the happy time when I sat and read
to you, or held Nanny, while you
Fitzfaddle, for goodness' sake
While youruddy and bright, my dear, as the full-blown rose, bent
over your mother's old cook stove
Are you crazy, Fitz, or do you want to craze me? cried the really
Turning your slap-jacks, continues Fitz, suiting the action to the
Fitzfaddle! cries Mrs. Fitz, in the most sublimated paroxysm of
pity and indignation, but Fitz let it come.
While I dandled Nanny on my knee!
A pause ensues; Fitzfaddle, in contemplation of the past, and Mrs.
Fitz fortifying herself for the opening of a campaign to come. At
length, after a deal of dicker, Fitz remembering only the bad
dinners, small rooms, large bills, sick, parboiled state of the
children, clash and clamor of his trips to the Springs, sea-side and
mountain resorts; and Mrs. Fitz dwelling over the strong opposition
(show and extravagance) she had run against the many ambitious
shop-keepers' wives, tradesmen's, lawyers' and doctors' daughtersMrs.
Fitz gained her point, and the family,Mrs. Fitz, the two now
marriageable daughtersAnna Antoinette De Orville, and Eugenia Heloise
De Orville, and Alexander Montressor De Orville, and two
servantsstart in style, for the famed city of Hull!
It was yet early in the season, and Fitzfaddle had secured, upon
accommodating terms, rooms &c., of Mrs. Fitzfaddle's own choosing. With
the diplomacy of five prime ministers, and with all the pride, pomp and
circumstance of a fine-looking woman of two-and-forty,husband rich,
and indulgent at that; armed with two marriageable daughters, you
mayif at all familiar with life at a watering-place, fancy Mrs.
Fitzfaddle's feelings, and perhaps, also, about a third of the
swarth she cut. The first evident opposition Mrs. Fitz encountered,
was from the wife of a wine merchant. This lady made her entree
at House, with a pair of bays and body servant, two poodles, and
an immensity of band boxes, patent leather trunks, andher husband.
The first day Mrs. Oldport sat at table, her new style of dress, and
her European jewels, were the afternoon talk; but at tea, the
Fitzfaddles spread, and Mrs. Oldport was bedimmed, easy; the
next day, however, turned up an artist's wife and daughter, whose
unique elegance of dress and proficiency in music took down the entire
collection! Mrs. Michael Angelo Smythe and daughter captivated two of
Mrs. Fitzfaddle's circlea young naval gent and a 'quasi Southern
planter, much to her chagrin and Fitzfaddle's pecuniary suffering; for
next evening Mrs. F. got up,to get back her two recruitsa grand
private hop, at a cost of $130! And the close of the week
brought such a cloud of beauty, jewels, marriageable daughters and
ambitious mothers, wives, &c., that Mrs. Fitzfaddle got into such a
worry with her diplomatic arrangements, her competitions,
stratagems,her fuss, her jewels, silks, satins and feathers, that a
nervous-headache preceded a typhus fever, and the unfortunate lady was
forced to retire from the field of her glory at the end of the third
week, entirely prostrated; and poor Jonas Fitzfaddle out of
pocketmore or lessfive hundred dollars! The last we heard of
Fitzfaddle, he was apostrophizing the good old times when he rejoiced
in five old chairscook stoveslap-jacks, &c.!